


Headspaces

by bluntblade



Series: Tales from the Timeskip [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A day in the life of the Resistance, F/M, Hanging Out, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Original planet, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rogue One References, Slice of Life, Training, Vignettes, clone wars references, downtime, porgs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluntblade/pseuds/bluntblade
Summary: Months down the line from Crait, the young heroes of the Resistance and their general find themselves adapting to their new situations.
Relationships: C-3PO & R2-D2 (Star Wars), Finn & Original Character(s), Finn/Rose Tico, Jessika Pava & Rey, Kaydel Ko Connix & Jessika Pava, Kaydel Ko Connix & Rey, Kaydel Ko Connix/Rey, Leia Organa & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Paige Tico & Rose Tico, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey & Rose Tico, Poe Dameron & Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Rose Tico & Original Character(s)
Series: Tales from the Timeskip [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719019
Comments: 11
Kudos: 8





	1. The General (Leia)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia takes a moment to reflect on the new state of the Resistance.

_I have to find things to think about other than mortality_ , Leia chided herself, as she sat back in her study aboard the battleship _Aldera_. Below, the icy orb of Rukjavel turned slowly. She frowned at her cluttered desk. _It’s not like I haven’t plenty of other things to do_.

But the matter stole up on her more and more, and nowadays it wasn’t just from viewing casualty lists. She had begun to accept, if not the certainty, then the unpleasant likelihood that she would not live to see the end of this war.

Doctor Kalonia had been worried about it when she’d finally managed to run some proper scans after Crait. Void exposure should have killed her like it had Ackbar and the other senior officers – Leia bowed her head at the thought, so many cumulative years of heroism and experience gone in a single salvo of torpedoes. The war, she found herself thinking, seemed altogether crueller nowadays.

Having escaped what should have been death, Leia nonetheless found herself dogged by leaden fatigue and shortness of breath, which had failed to abate entirely even six months later. What she’d once hoped was a quick recovery turned out to be a temporary reprieve. Her condition was capricious, receding for days or weeks at a time only to return with a vengeance later on.

How easily it had all come to this unthinkable situation. Well, not all unthinkable; some of it she’d been warning against for years. She had suspected, and made her suspicions clear. That what the First Order was doing in the Unknown Regions went far beyond what most people were willing to believe. That they were building a military machine to rival and exceed anything the Republic fielded. That they were doing so for coercion or even outright conquest.

But the Starkiller and the atrocity it had wrought had been beyond anything she could have imagined. As had the rest: finding and losing Han in the space of a mere day, the passing of her brother and the rise of her own son to the First Order’s throne. Ben Solo, setting himself up as the would-be ruler of the entire Galaxy, setting his legions to burn and blast world after world into shattered submission. _I thought we could free him of Snoke, and bring him back. But when he freed himself, he did it only to make everyone else his slaves_.

That so much of it had been down to the late Snoke, and that he had been slain by his apprentice, was little comfort.

She’d talked with Rey about this, the fleeting, separate hopes they had held for him, and how those had been cruelly dashed to pieces. Now her hopes lay with those who had, in so many cases, stumbled into the Resistance. The ones who had suddenly found the weight of the Galaxy descending upon their shoulders.


	2. The Commander (Poe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe takes the time to read a book Leia's gifted him. He sees the point she's trying to make. In any case, his mind's on how to be a better commander. NB: this totally ignores the spice runner backstory that TRoS gave Poe.

The Resistance fortress on Rukjavel was surprisingly cozy, considering that the planet itself was little more than a ball of rock and ice. Turbine-powered heaters worked constantly to defy the freezing cold outside.

Poe was propped up against his pillow, thumbing through a holobook Leia had given him. He’d known this was meant to be instructive the second he saw the title. _Partisan_ was a detailed biography of Saw Guerrera, written some time after the Battle of Endor.

Poe’s company had found themselves back on Rujkavel, in the warren of tunnels that threaded through its mountain range, and that cold and inhospitable world turned out to be the perfect incentive to curl up in his billet and get some reading done. Fortunately the book was good – well-researched but with sparse prose that stopped it getting bogged down.

The message Leia wanted him to absorb came through loud and clear. The parallels were numerous enough that Poe found himself going over the passage in which Guerrera was tortured on Onderon, wondering what might have happened on the _Finaliser_ , had Finn not broken him out.

The black-and-chrome mask of Kylo Ren loomed briefly behind his eyes. He felt the echo of the pain, the sensation of iron fingers digging around inside his skull.

Poe winced and shook his head, scowling. Gial, the Porg who had come with Rey from Ach-To and whom the crew somehow couldn’t bear to part with, came tottering over the sheets to him. Seeming to sense Poe’s discomfort, he snuggled up against his side. Poe gave him a tolerant look and tickled him behind the ears, but his thoughts remained with Kylo Ren..

_How did we get to this, Ben?_ It was hard, even now, to reconcile the memory of the boy from his childhood with the man who was now their nemesis. He was the towering shadow on the horizon, the face on the propaganda screens, the hand moving the pieces on the Dejarik table.

_You’re the reason I have to be better,_ Poe mused. _People saw the angry boy and saw an idiot. Wrongly. Whatever else you are, you’re not that._

He’d been studying the reports from campaigns where Ren had led the First Order offensive, and begun to recognise the Supreme Leader’s methods. To his distaste, he had to concede that they were sound. Maybe Ren wasn’t the most brilliant strategist, but he surrounded himself with men like Enric Pryde, who had been infamous before Poe had even been born.

In tactical terms, meanwhile, Ren was downright smart. He knew the capabilities of the troops he commanded – the new elites he had pulled together adhered to his own design, from what the Resistance’s spies could tell – and his own ability to inspire them, to amplify their fanaticism to levels beyond belief.

And it was working. The rate of conquest had been slowed with Snoke’s assassination and the loss of almost their entire fleet above Crait, but it continued nonetheless. Many more ships and armies had been concealed in the Unknown Regions, and it had been weeks before any Republic worlds could offer more than a dazed, blundering defence. Even now, as their resolve stiffened, the Republic was crumbling, robbed of central leadership with Hosnian Prime destroyed.

So in conclusion, it had to be conceded that so far, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren was something of a non-disaster. A worthy, fearsome opponent, even.

There were, however, flaws that Poe had noticed. They weren’t all that far from the shortcomings he recognised in himself. Ren wanted victories to be his, wanted to be the one to break an enemy’s resolve and slay their champions. He could be reckless, relying on his own power and that of his armies to overwhelm anything that stood in his way.

_Exchange our roles, and would I do that much different?_ Poe wondered. Then he shook his head, returning to the book. He had a better comparison here.

Saw Guerrera, it occurred to him, was the sort of man that one could easily become, fighting people like the First Order. If one gave in to the impulse to repay brutality with the same. The most famous of his proteges, Jyn Erso, had ended up defining herself against Guerrera rather than following his example. Towards the end he’d even stopped recruiting unless the desperate came to him, more focused on tearing down what he could of the Empire than building something to resist it.

_I see your point, Leia._ And Poe had a few things in mind for building projects. In particular, Finn and Rey. _After all, a commander needs captains._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine that Poe was at least somewhat acquainted with Ben Solo as a kid. It just makes sense to me.


	3. The Trooper Who Turned (Finn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn finds himself surprisingly in demand with the Resistance's training officers.

Finn was talking tactics in one of the training halls. The room was full of young men and women – cadets from New Republic academies and planetary defence forces alike. All had been evacuated from worlds threatened by the First Order, fervently volunteering to serve with the Resistance. Still, they needed training, and moreover, they needed to understand the enemy.

In an amusing bit of irony, Finn found that his Stormtrooper training made him a popular man for the training officers to consult. He knew the enemy’s tactics inside-out, and few people in the Resistance knew the psychology of First Order soldiers as well as him.

Added to that, his reputation preceded him among the recruits. He drew as many eyes as Rey or Poe around the base. He was the Trooper Who Turned, the one who had renounced the enemy and broken free of their grip.

So Major Rulm, a burly middle-aged Iktotchi, had sent for him the day after the Falcon arrived at the base and requested that Finn address the cadets.

Chewbacca, Nyzar and LM-276 stood off to one side, watching Rulm, watching Finn. The major was a new face to them, though they knew his reputation. Once an Imperial Stormtrooper cadet in the final days of the Civil War, then a defector to the Rebellion and now, the officer who ran the Rukjavel base.

“Above all, Stormtroopers operate on a basis on cumulative overload,” Finn was saying, running his eyes again over the file of cadets before him. “They hit hard and keep hitting. Coordination is the watchwork, everything the First Order is about is there in how they are trained. What that means for us is that we have to work against that cohesion. We have to take the initiative, we have to sow chaos. Turn their propaganda into a lie.”

A hesitant hand rose. A skinny Zabrak girl. “And how do we do that?”

Finn grinned, reaching for a training blaster and pulling on his helmet. “I’ll show you.” He pointed to the sturdy doors, beyond which the training grounds lay. “To the assault course, cadets!”

Rulm caught him in the changing rooms after the training exercise was over with. The major hauled his muscled bulk from the shower, clad in nothing by a towel, and found Finn pulling his trousers on. “Bracing isn’t it, training out there?”

“Not all that different to the Starkiller, to be honest.”

“You mean old Ilum?” Rulm chuckled at the surprised look on his face. “I’m old and craggy enough to remember when it was that.” Before Finn’s time. “Rough training ground, I’ll bet.”

“I saw it kill dozens of cadets. Rest of us…” He tapped his left shoulder, an old abrasion scar. “It still left marks – though I see you’ve got plenty of your own.” He was looking at Rulm, most specifically at an old scar on one side of his torso. It looked like a gobbet of flesh had been carved messily out of him.

“Ah, this old thing? Yeah.” Rulm moved to his locker. “Nevarro in Year 17, back when the Republic still made a pretence of patrolling the wilderness. Was a lieutenant back then. Count on my bantha-fodder captain to pit us against a bandit crew that used solid shot – _heavy_ solid shot.” He snorted. “We love to trash-talk the primitives, but they can still make you hurt. The kind of round I took rips in and out, and it leaves bits behind too.”

“Yeesh.”

“Aye. But we’re not here to swap stories about scars and besides, the whole Resistance knows how you got the big one on your back.” Finn just about stopped himself flinching, remembering the thrum and the searing, magnesium-flare agony as Kylo Ren raked the lightsaber up his spine. “So, good work out there today.”

Finn nodded, pulling on a shirt. “The cadets are good. They pick up fast, they’re proactive learners. I mean damn, they’re fired up and then some. Give it a year and some luck in the field, you’ll have a bunch of fine soldiers.”

“I wasn’t thinking of the cadets.” Rulm was now towelling carefully around his jutting horns.

Finn glanced up from his bootlaces to find Rulm turning back to face him as he did up his belt.

“I mean you’re not wrong, the rookies are good. I know they are. But most of the briefing, I was watching you. Because I see officer material in front of me.” He folded his arms. “And I’m sure I don’t need to describe how the cadets gravitated to you on the field today, do it?”

Finn smiled. “I’ve learned to be a good team player. People gravitate to that.”

“Your aptitudes are top-tier too.” Rulm’s expression took on a searching quality. “Which really makes me wonder why the First Order didn’t see it. How weren’t you put on a fast track?”

“Some of them saw potential. Phasma did.” Finn finished with his boots and reached for his jacket. “They pushed me hard, but they couldn’t get me ruthless enough for their tastes. Didn’t go hard enough when I beat someone sparring, and both times in the field, I posted no kills. No one who might be weak gets above trooper rank. And then of course I committed high treason.”

“Which does tend to bomb your career prospects.”

Finn laughed as he stood, straightening the jacket. “It’s good to serve in an army that doesn’t pit me against comrades.”

“And we’re glad to have you,” Rulm replied. “Tell you what – you’re here for another two days, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well, we’ve got officers in training here, not just rank and file. Come sit in on the seminars tomorrow, hopefully we can teach you something too.”


	4. The Sparky (Rose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose is getting used to being the Millennium Falcon's lead engineer.

“Rose!”

Rose finished her sentence, put down the pencil and pad, and leaned over to open the door for Ki’rii Volo to come bounding through. Her fellow engineer, Rose knew from experience, always came bounding through unless stealth was required.

“Hey LT!” The Pantoran’s azure features were, as so often, lit by an irrepressible grin.

Rose gave her a look that was half elation, half befuddlement. “LT – oh, lieutenant.”

“Yeah, mate. You’ve got the rank, you’ve gotta start carrying yourself like it. Can’t have you looking poleaxed when someone calls you lieutenant out in the field.”

“OK,” Rose laughed. “But we’re still sparkies together, right?” They’d been friends too long for anything else, as far as she was concerned.

“Unless we’re in front of the boots.” Ki’rii winked, and her eyes passed quickly over the room. “Not a bad billet.”

“Yeah. A bit snug to sleep two, but on a world this cold, that’s not much of a bad thing. That said, I could go for a desk.”

Ki’rii glanced at the pad. “Paper and lead, Rose?”

“A journal. Nothing that’d compromise us,” Rose said hurriedly. “It’s more like… letters. I write to Paige.” She had ever since Crait, telling her sister stories about what she’d been up to since then. The friends she’d made, the places she’d seen.

Ki’rii’s cheer faltered for just a moment. She remembered Rose’s sister too and a small, sad smile crept onto her face. “That’s… really sweet. What are you telling her about today?” She caught herself and held up her hands. “If it’s alright, me asking.”

“Yup,” Rose said. “I’m telling her more about Finn. I only had a couple of boyfriends during school, and those were, you know, kid things. This is… phew, it’s so much more.”

“For him too. He’s smitten – as he well should be. But,” Ki’rii said, “I’m not here about your private life.”

“So…”

“We’re going shopping, mate.”

“Shopping” turned out to be Ki’rii-speak for procurement. Resistance crews were thorough in their salvaging operations, and a number of recent hauls had turned up suitable replacements for the Millennium Falcon’s lost cannons. A Y-T Freighter was a tough ship, and the Falcon had gained no small amount of armour over the decades, but it still had vulnerable points. Between Jakku and Crait, the Falcon’s guns had been thoroughly denuded.

Naturally, with Poe looking to get his crew back in the fight, replacements were a high priority. Rey had been clear from early on that if options were presented, it was Rose’s call as to what they took. That show of trust was astounding to Rose, even though she and the other woman had rapidly become friends. _The Last Jedi, letting me kit out her ship for her_.

“We’ve got a buffet,” Ki’rii grinned as they walked into the bustling hangar. Above their heads, fighter craft sat on shelved platforms. “General Organa’s own orders: the Millennium Falcon gets first dibs.”

“It’s a weird thing, being favourites.” Rose returned the salutes that came her way. She was still getting used to that. “Not to complain. What’s on the menu?” It was almost impossible not to slip into whatever idiom Ki’rii was in the mood for. Her enthusiasm had been infectious for as long as Rose had known her.

That got her the “he he _hee_ ” that signified Ki’rii at her most enthusiastic. “To start with there’s this heavy repeater model, Talemak-made with a built-in missile launcher. Reckon that’ll be good for cracking armour, which might not be a bad shout given all the Star Destroyers we face. Then there’s this multi-setting beast that Dross Squadron pulled off a pirate vessel at Eirten.”

“Eirten? Shriv really picks spiky targets, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, and somehow he always comes up trumps. This little rascal comes with a ‘net’ option, gets you this burst of plasma that’ll leave the TIEs coming after you full of holes and venting. Brr,” she added as one of the tall doors hissed open, letting a fighter patrol back in. Ki’rii had been forced to embrace long sleeves for the duration of their stay here, and wasn’t best pleased about it.

“So decomp will take it apart in seconds with a minimum. And this one?” Rose got a little closer to the row of cannons and laughed in disbelief herself. “Holy, where did this get pulled from? That’s a Thundercrack!” She almost ran over to the turret.

It was a rare weapon. Certainly she’d never seen one herself, but she knew about it. It was remarkable, comprising both a rapid-fire mode, a beam setting which could bisect a craft and an electro-magnetic burst attachment.

Rose felt her heartbeat pick up just looking at it. This would make the Falcon more powerful than it had ever been before.

“This one, Ki’rii. This one above all. It’ll take some rewiring in the Falcon itself – we’ll want an auxiliary feed for the burst – but I say it’s gonna be worth it.”

“With you on that,” Ki’rii grins. “And the other mount?”

“You can pick that one.”


	5. The Jedi (Rey)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piloting is bread and butter for Rey, but formation flying is proving to be a trickier proposition. Consider this my riposte to her and Poe's belligerent dynamic, when I was hoping he'd be a supportive mentor to her.

“OK, time out, Rey!”

Rey swore venomously as she pulled off her headset. She slumped back, eyes closed, and cursed again, putting off looking over to where Poe was patiently waiting.

He had his patient, tolerant face on. BB-8 sat by his feet, watching Rey a little nervously. “Give yourself ten minutes out of the sim, kid. C’ai got a brew on for you.”

Rey get up and went to join him, accepting the mug of tea in his hand, just about remembering to thank him.

“So, what was the score this time?”

Rey took a gulp of tea before replying, eyes on her mug. Someone had stencilled on the slogan _blast TIEs, drink TEAs_. Even the wonky grammar was irritating right now.

“You know the score.”

“But I wanna hear it from you.”

Rey sighed. “Five minutes and forty-six seconds until I lost my last wingman, pretty much the same as the other thirteen times.”

She’d been at this for well over an hour now, under Poe’s supervision. She plugged into the sims that the Resistance used – ones that simulated full squadrons in combat, rather than the solo ones she’d dug out of wrecks and learned to fly with as a teenager.

And unlike the solo sims, these ones were kicking her arse. She just couldn’t make it to the end of a session with her squadron even half intact.

“Do you see where you’re going wrong, yet?” Poe asked gently.

“No!” Rey snapped. “I’m going all out, I’m doing everything I can!”

“And what about your wingmates?” Jess piped up. She was sat in the corner, and had been so quiet that Rey, in her anger, hadn’t even noticed her.

And there was Hallis, one of the new Black Squadron pilots, behind Jess. Kriff, she’d had an audience for that last bout.

Rey hesitated. “I… well, I’ve got to look out for them.” She found herself stumbling over the words, suddenly feeling that something was off about her reasoning. “But if there are that many of the enemy, how can I keep them safe? I can’t be everywhere…”

And then she realised that Poe was watching her thoughtfully, a gentle smile on his face. “I think you’re starting to see the problem, aren’t you?”

Still, Rey frowned. “How can the lesson be that I need to take a back seat?”

“No one’s saying that. But right now, you’re trying to do too much.” Poe hit a button on the remote, and glowing lines snapped into place, mimicking laser shots from each fighter.

Jess raised a finger. “You’re thinking like a lone wolf when you should be part of the pack. The pack needs space for everyone to do their bit, and right now what you’re doing is crowding them.”

Rey digested all this in silence.

Poe laid an affirming hand on Jess’ shoulder. “Your wingmates are all armed and dangerous, and each of them can hold their own. Not to be harsh, and not overlooking that you saved our butts on Crait, but they’ve fought more actions than you. Jess was with me for the Starkiller. Hallis over there, she came through D’Qar and Crait. And they’ve been running patrols and fighting skirmishes for years.”

Rey found her hands making an instinctive wringing motion. “I know, Poe. I just… it’s hard for me to take that kind of thing on trust, you know?”

“This is Jakku talking, huh? Well, that’s the lesson, Rey; you’re not on Jakku anymore, and we don't do Army of One stuff in the Resistance. Your fellow pilots will have your back - if you let them.”

“Right.” Rey eyed her boots, feeling distinctly deflated and chastened. BB-8 rolled over, chirping his commiserations.

“Hey.” Poe followed his droid over, and crouched down in front of her. “I get that this is tricky for you. Most of us were trained to fly in formation as soon as we could take off and land. Whereas you… well, scavenging for rations isn’t exactly a team sport, is it?”

Rey dipped her chin. “You could say that. I’ve learned to work with Finn and Chewie, but that’s only one ship. But,” she brought her hands together, “I can see the problem now. Permission to get back in the sim and work on solving it?”

“Granted.”

BA-9, Jess’ black-and-silver-blue astromech, nudged Rey’s ankle and gave an encouraging _boop_.

Rey smiled down at her. “Boop.”

“We can get in there with you,” Jess added. “I think the Commander missed that earlier. With our voices in your ear, hopefully it’ll feel more like a team game. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Poe grinned and pointed to her mug. “But finish your tea first. Then we’ll get on it.”


	6. Tinkering (Rey and Rose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey, Chewbacca and Rose give the Millennium Falcon some much-needed TLC.

Refitting the Millennium Falcon was no small thing. Underneath its floor panels lay several strata of cables, convertors and other, less identifiable components, where Rey, Rose and Ki’rii were busy rummaging around. BB-8 had come to help out, while R2 was working up on the deck.

Rey had been down here once or twice before, most notably the “poison gas incident” above Jakku, when she and Finn had just liberated the ship from Unkar Platt. Shortly after that, the compressor Platt had had put in place had nearly gone critical. Had she not “bypassed” it, to paraphrase Han, she would’ve been distributed across several different star systems.

For all that, she’d never really grappled with the sheer complexity and, well, mess before now. But hey, as Rose had said, there’d never be a better time to deal with it then now, when they were set to be on base for a good few days. So here they were, with the Falcon fully powered down, working by torch and lamplight.

They made for a good crew as well, which hardly hurt. Rose and Ki’rii were experienced mechanics, and their enthusiasm for the job was thoroughly appealing for Rey. She’d warmed to Rose during the Resistance’s stay on Ryloth, and Ki’rii had slotted effortlessly into their crew after Magna Leptus.

“Is this one of yours and Han’s?” Rey asked Chewbacca, who was crouching above them on the floor of the Falcon. He grunted and nodded. “Might’ve known. Still works nicely.”

She’d say this for Han and Chewie’s additions. The ones that lasted, really lasted.

“This one?” Ki’rii said, pointing to an alarmingly haphazard bundle of wires. Chewie sounded properly offended this time.

“That looks like an Unkar Platt special,” Rey said, and made a face. BB-8 rolled over, tilting his head quizzically, and she nodded. “Definitely cut that one out.”

BB-8 chittered, produced some incising implements from one of his compartments, and went to work.

“What was Platt’s deal even?” Rose asked. “More of the shoddy mods here seem to be his than anyone else’s.”

There seemed to be one or two tells to each owner of the Falcon’s additions. Even when Chewbacca couldn’t point to a piece and say that it had been put there by Lando or Han, Rey could pick out a certain way that something had been welded or wired. As for Platt…

“Laziness,” Rey said to Rose. “He was a big, bloated git to start with, so he’d never have been able to come down here. Cos of that, he’d just get someone to bodge a solution to whatever was up with the Falcon. He never spent time with the ship – Han and Chewie put lots of time into getting a feel for her, just like we have.” She smiled at the proud look on Chewie’s face.

Ki’rii’s blue features were locked in a scowl for a few seconds, her amber eyes narrowed. “Hate people who neglect ships.”

Rey nodded sympathetically. Ki’rii had grown up on and around ships, and treated them with a care that most beings reserved at least for droids – and often, not even droids. Moreover, to Ki’rii’s way of thinking negligence was much more than an affront, as a bodge-job could so easily cause injury or much worse.

Unkar Platt, Rey thought, exactly fit the type her friend was thinking of. “You don’t know the half of it, Ki’rii. Poor Falcon here didn’t even fly for years before Finn and I nicked her.” She patted a wall gently. “But we’re making good here. ‘specially with those cannons you two have picked out.” Which was a large part of why they were down here in the first place; a lot of rewiring had to be done to accommodate the newly acquired weapons. “By the time we’re done, I dare say she’ll be better than she’s ever been, right Chewie?”

There was a throaty statement of approval. Rey smiled, hoping that Han would be pleased if he could see what they were up to. He’d known from the start that she appreciated the old ship, after all.

Rose beamed up at Chewie. “Maybe we could get her a proper coat of paint too, if there’s time? I spoke to General Calrissian a while ago and he showed me a holo from when he flew her.”

The Wookie shrugged and grumbled. He thought there was a particular character to the Falcon’s scarred metal hide.

Rose stood up, resting her arms on the metal grille as she made her case. “I know, Chewie, but think of how beautiful she was when you and Han first saw her.” Rey could sense the old Wookie’s heart beginning to melt, and smiled at Ki’rii’s raised eyebrow. “She’s a symbol of the Resistance, so maybe at least we could paint the raptor on her?”

Chewie rumbled gently. He’d think about it.

“You know,” Rose told Rey over lunch later, “it’s good to be caring for a craft again. Obviously it’s great and an honour to be helping out with the Millennium Falcon again in the first place, but having a crew around it… it fills a hole, in a little way.”

Rey felt a pang, and looked at her friend with a quizzical frown. “Did you work on Paige’s bomber, back before D’Qar?”

“Yeah. Among other things – we had a whole bunch of duties,” Rose said, nodding to Ki’rii.

“Yep.” The other engineer’s head bobbed. “Fixing up fighters, maintenance down behind the pipes, personal gear checks, tooling around with field weaponry-”

“Alright, Ki’rii,” Rose cut in gently. “I think Rey gets it. But no matter what else we did, working on the bomber was always part of the routine. And it was something Paige and I always did together. Helped me feel better whenever she went out on duty.” A pang of sorrow showed on her face.

Rey felt it and reached out, taking the other woman by the arm. This was normally Finn’s department, but she wanted to alleviate her friend’s heartache.

Rose gave her a little smile. “It’s alright, Rey. Paige gave her life to keep us going, and we’re honouring her with everyone we save. Plus having you guys around makes it easier. I still miss her – there’s no replacing a sister – but just being able to hang out with you helps.”

“And knowing,” Ki’rii piped up. “That because of people like you, Poe and Finn, we’ve got a chance to turn this thing around.”

Rey smiled, looking down for a moment. “Not just because of us. If we didn’t have you guys around, we’d have been finished long ago.”

Ki’rii nodded, beaming at the praise. “You and Finn would’ve been munched up in that arena.”

“Which is only the most obvious example,” Rey grinned, and Chewbacca rumbled in agreement. “Believe me, I very much appreciate having you guys on the team. Say, when we’ve finished up and got a workout in-” it was that or a spar every day for them now “-how about we go for a flight and try out our new cannons?”

“Bullseye some big rocks?” asked Ki’rii, her eyes agleam.

Chewie rumbled and thumped the table enthusiastically. So that was their afternoon plans sorted.


	7. Getting On a Bit (C-3PO and R2-D2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R2-D2 and C-3PO reflect on old robotic age.

Despite the near-constant bustle to which a Resistance base was host, there were still times when R2-D2 found himself at a loose end. This was one of those times, and to his dismay, this coincided with C-3PO feeling reflective. They were stood in a hangar, watching other droids go back and forth.

“When did we get become old, R2?

Quizzical beeping answered him, R2 pointing out that strictly speaking, C-3PO had been old for as long as he could remember.

“I wasn’t speaking about keeping my memory intact.”

R2 still thought that was a factor. Both of them didn’t actually _feel_ as old as they were, thanks to diligent upkeep and, yes, the wipes which the Resistance wouldn’t dream of performing on a droid nowadays.

Now, R2 and his companion were moving in perfect sync with the steady flow of time. They could remember their old friends who were no longer with them. Admiral Ackbar was a sad absence, old Bail Organa too. Han Solo, even more so. And of course, Master Luke. His loss ached for R2, as much as anything could ache for a droid. It was like a strata of rock in his mind, made up of people who were gone.

So yes, he thought this was probably the cause of them beginning to feel old. Even if, in his considered opinion, C-3PO had never been truly young.

“I resent the implication of that, R2. given what my master built me from.”

R2 protested. He hadn’t meant it like that. 3PO’s pride was so very brittle however, he thought, that offence was rather inevitable.

“And to answer it, no, I do not attribute this feeling to my composition. _That_ would be the weight of responsibility, R2. Something you have only had fleeting encounters with, down the years, but which I have shouldered since my inception.” He drew himself up. “But what I was _actually_ referring to was this swarm of young droids around us. We appear to have more every day.”

Which would be a positive thing, he was reminded.

“Even so, it’s quite disconcerting. No, they are quite personable – ah, hello BA-9. I hear you’ve been industrious with young Captain Pava.”

The little black-and-silver astromech wobbled and chittered, eager to share what she and her pilot had achieved in the defence of Huenemak.

C-3PO straightened up, about the most he could do to look impressed. “A TIE Silencer, you say? Remarkable, quite remarkable. It sounds like you have earned yourself a full year of oil baths.”

He didn’t have quite as ready an answer for BA-9’s enthusiasm for taking the fight to the First Order. Presumably that came from the young droid’s mistreatment by her old masters, and from being around Captain Pava and her peers.

R2 was able to offer more fulsome praise. He knew about battling, whereas zeal for the fight was one thing that C-3PO would never really understand.

“Do you miss it, R2?” he asked as BA-9 rolled away. “Just you with your one pilot, in a single fragile starfighter?”

R2-D2 whirred thoughtfully. At times, he rather did. He didn’t lament the times when he was packed off with a bunch of Jedi younglings or a clutch of other droids, under an obstreperous officer who didn’t appreciate them. Back, that was, in the days too old for even C-3PO to remember. But there was something to be said for just heading out in a starfighter with your pilot, the two of you against the Galaxy.

“Hmm. I suppose a romantic like you would say that, especially watching all these youthful droids rattling around the place.”

Whereas C-3PO didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, R2 retorted. Now BB-8, rolling over and chirping happily at the older two… that little droid understood quite well. R2-D2 thought sometimes that he saw rather a lot of himself in the youthful astromech.

“Ah yes, intrepid little BB-8. I do hope you’re keeping our Commander Dameron safe, and young BA-9 on a stable course?”

BB-8 responded enthusiastically, and added some news of his own.

“A request? For two of us?”

BB-8 chirruped happily. A request from the General herself.

“Negotiations with an information broker? That certainly sounds like important work.”

Then BB-8 told him where.

“On _Nar Shadda?_ ”

On the one hand, R2 didn’t have to worry about a contemplative C-3PO henceforth. On the other hand, the protocol droid was now returning to his very favourite theme: the unparalleled ordeal that was his existence, and how dreadful it was about to get.

And as ever, R2-D2 would have to sit through all of it.


	8. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaydel spies Rey in the gym on base and gets understandably flustered.

“Kaydel?”

Kaydel started at Jess’ voice in her ear. “Hmm?” she said, turning to the pilot.

“You’re staring at her again.” Jess’ eyebrow quirked. She looked thoroughly amused. “I see the appeal, sure, but let’s keep some decorum.”

Internally, Kaydel turned back to her modest dumbbells and grumbled to herself. It wasn’t her fault that Rey was so striking, and that she was doing pullups in front of a mirrored wall, at the far end of the gym.

“I really thought Leia would’ve taught you subtlety,” Jess produced as she started on some shoulder presses.

“She’s doing a whole of pullups,” Kaydel tried to excuse herself.

“That would be convincing,” Jess chuckled. “If you hadn’t been gawking a whole lot more since the vest came off.”

Which was quite true. The thick wrap of fabric around Rey’s chest was the only garment on her upper half, which made for an even more arresting sight than usual.

Kaydel scowled, knowing that she’d confirmed her guilt now, huffing as she got lifting. It was lucky that the gym was busy, freeing them from any real risk of being overheard. Everyone in the Resistance, at least those on front or even second-line duty, was expected to keep active when on base. The result was a steady clang of weights, along with all the chatter plus grunts and groans.

She sank into the noise, and the rhythm. Until, to her shock and frank horror, Rey’s voice was in her ear.

“Morning Kaydes.”

Kaydel just about contained her yelp, and turned to face Rey with a look of feigned composure. “Hey Rey. How’s tricks?”

“Same old,” Rey smiled. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She was tailing lamely off. _You’re gonna be at close quarters with this woman, a lot. Control your damn self._ “You’re doing a pretty thorough workout,” she said, starting her last set. Corellian presses to finish for her.

“The General told me I’d need to.” Rey shrugged. “Gotta have all my strength for the next time I wallop a Stormtrooper, you know?”

And then she started on the deadlifts, which robbed Kaydel of all composure. She knew her mouth was hanging open, but given the enormous weights Rey was lifting, she couldn’t do much else.

“Damn Rey, is that Jedi strength?”

Rey straightened up and grinned, shaking her head. “Not that I’m aware of. This is good, honest climber’s strength.”

“From scavenging?”  
“Yep. Digging around the Star Destroyers, you had to go really high up to grab anything worth selling.” She took a swig of water, thinking, before she turned back to Kaydel. “I should show you guys Jakku, one day. Very briefly, before we rocket off to somewhere much nicer.”

Kaydel nodded, before she realised her roving gaze had betrayed her properly now. _Her eyes aren’t down there, Connix_. Rey blushed, but mercifully didn’t make anything of it.

Kaydel scrabbled for something to say. She managed to only have her mouth open for a second before saying “I actually just finished my workout. If you’re not gonna be long, maybe we could grab lunch?”

A little regret – startlingly, genuine regret – showed in Rey’s face. “I’d jump at it, but I’ve still got another six sets and Poe wants me to run through another sim this afternoon. But hey,” she adds, taking gentle hold of Kaydel’s arm. “Maybe we could get a walk in tomorrow, and then do lunch?”

Kaydel composed herself, trying to make sure that her eyes didn’t look too much like saucers. “Gladly, Rey. See you in the mess for dinner with the guys?”

“Sure.” And with that, Rey was off, setting up another machine. Kaydel moved to the exit, noting the amused smile on Jess’ lips.

  1. _I can stand in front of Rey when she’s got the vest off, and hold a conversation. That’s a good sign, right? Progress._




End file.
